The Jedi Trials
by StormJedi
Summary: Mace didn't die when he was blasted out of the window. A fall like that could be absorbed by even a youngling. A confrontation would take place between Mace and Vader, one born of the tradition and rituals of the Jedi Trials. It was time to test Vader. One-shot, not slash.


**I don't own Star Wars.**

**The problem with a writers muse is the simple fact you have no control over what you write. Sure you can force your muse to your will, but it never flows as naturally. This story has been stuck in my head for two days now, and I'm writing it so as to get a good night's sleep tonight.**

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The pain wasn't the worst part, not even close. Lost hand? It stung a little, but a lightsaber cauterizes a wound instantly. Prosthetics were highly advanced, and he would have a greater range of ability with a metal hand than a natural one. The lightning? Stung quite a bit, but it didn't last forever, and didn't stop his heart. The fall? Broken arm (right arm, but with no hand, didn't matter) and a couple cracked ribs.

What hurt was the betrayal. The betrayal of someone you always thought was on your side, that you trusted with you very _soul,_ rip you apart. Mace could have stopped the lightning, not even the loss of his right hand was that big a deal, he was equally good with his left. The pain of betrayal never dulled, and it never healed. By the time Mace had come to, gotten his injuries taken care of, and obtained a hand, Palpatine already had complete control, Yoda had vanished, and the Jedi Temple was destroyed.

While Mace's head was relatively normal, his arms and torso were crisscrossed with white scars, scars from _that day_. Mace had waited. For eight years he watched, he learned Vader's style, his motive, his psyche. He watched for when Vader was out of the reach of Palpatine, and he knew that every year, at the same time, Vader would go to the temple, he would walk amongst the ruins, always alone. That day, the day of the 'revolution' as Palpatine's cronies called it, the one day where the temple wasn't protected, where Vader, the _traitor_, would be.

Mace used to be on the council, he was one of the few capable of controlling some of the halls in the temple. The Jedi trials always had a test, a trial that was brought on by hallucinations. It was time to see what Vader was made of, and Mace was going to enjoy watching Vader break like a cracked cooling unit, shattering under a real test.

* * *

This was the day, the anniversary of the greatest victory, and failure, of Vader's life. What was all the power in the world if you didn't have someone to share it with? Somehow, Vader didn't understand how, the tradition began. Every year he came to the Temple, the site of his greatest victory, at the cost of his soul. The temple was the catalyst that completed his transformation. But it wasn't enough, just after that, the weak Jedi Obi-Wan, his old pathetic master, bested him. How could he have been such a fool to make that jump? Now he was a machine, an android with a connection to the force. He was the image of the Empire, but at the cost of the face of the republic.

So here he was, at the temple, walking through the halls that had been half his life, _his weaker half._

Vader's tour always ended in the council room. Round, bright, torn, abused. The room was surprisingly large, one could easily duel here, or use it as a training room.

* * *

Here he was, Vader had stopped at the council room, like always. This was it, this was his chance at revenge. Something at the back of Mace's mind hinted that revenge was _wrong, _but that voice was the one of a Jedi that had never faced betrayal. It was the voice of a naive fool hiding behind the code. Mace began the Trials ritual, and slowly unraveled reality.

* * *

Vader was about to leave then the floor shifted underneath him, crashing to one knee, he reached out with the force, trying to find what had happened. The council chambers were no more, in its place was the office that the Chancellor of the Republic would use. The wind was softly howling from the broken window, but what Vader noticed was the man in front of the window. Wearing only pants, he could see the crisscrossing scars, and the feral, no, not feral, obsessive, look on his face. Vader knew who this was, but it might as well have been the _Katana_ fleet in front of him for all he believed it. This man was _dead. _But ghosts don't talk, or have lightsabers.

"So surprised to see me again Anakin? Or should I use your Sith name, Darth Vader?" said Mace. He flicked his saber on, no longer the distinctive purple, but now a hazy orange.

"You should have died Mace, or simply vanished. You will not survive this fight." replied Vader, turning on his own saber.

"I don't have to survive to take you down with me." With that the battle was joined.

Vader had exterminated the Jedi, his form was perfected, utilizing his size and power to make strokes that were not easily parried by even the greatest swordsmen. But Mace was a council member, and the creator of Vaapad. Vaapad was designed to be a highly mobile form, and Vader couldn't force an offensive against Mace, not with him moving so fast, he could barely make a defense.

"Come on Vader, where is the Jedi Killer? Where is the Scourge of the Outer Rim? You are weak!" Mace drove in, pressing harder and harder. Vader barely stopped the strikes, and he realized this wouldn't last long.

"You're pathetic Vader, you were the Chosen One! You were going to balance the Force!" With that, Mace chopped off Vader's left arm. Vader parried as best he could, but his suit did not give him free motion, most of his attacks and defense moves were only done with two hands.

"What happened to your control on the force Vader? What happened to the Jedi you used to be? How could you let Palpatine deceive you?!" Another strike, Vader's right arm chopped off. Defenseless, Vader simply stood, waiting for Mace to make the final move.

"You are no Jedi, but you are no Sith either!" another slice, this time both of Vader's legs, he tumbled to the ground, still watching Mace. "You are worthless! Nothing more than a thug for Palpatine, how could you be so blind? You are not worthy of either side of the force!" With that, Mace prepared to deliver the final blow, as Mace raised his saber.

Time seemed to slow for Vader, his rage bubbled inside him. What grounds did this weakling have to call him unworthy? Vader called upon the Force with everything he had, ripping the Force from the very air, a light blue glow, like an untuned hologram, appeared, outlining his arms, or where they would be. Vader had seen his master do it, felt the way Palpatine made a slave of the Force to create the trademark of the Sith, the Force Lightning.

With a final pull on the force, Vader raised his 'hands' and blasted Mace with Force Lightning, but it wasn't the blue of Palpatine's, rather a sickly yellow. It did the job however, and blasted Mace towards the open window. With a grunt, Mace stopped just short of the window, a piece of metal sticking out of his chest. The hallucination faded away, Vader was once again inside the council room, and there was Mace on the wall, pinned up like a bug.

With a grunt, Mace began to speak. "I tell you this Vader," Mace coughed. "Your master will destroy you with lightning, as you have me." With a smile, Mace's eyes drooped, and finally shut. Vader activated the commlink in his helmet. "Trooper, bring a stretcher to the council chambers, I require assistance."

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**This was partly inspired by the trials Starkiller took at the Jedi Temple. Surely a fall out of a window after losing a hand and being blasted by lightning wouldn't stop a Jedi Master. I wondered what would happen if a slightly deranged Mace confronted Vader. The results could quite possibly be canon, since Mace would still be dead, and Vader alive.**


End file.
